


Drunk Kisses and the Sober Ones that Follow

by necroneol



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Garrus and Shepard are both vers, I love consent so they talk a lot along the way : ) communication is key fellas, I'm mad bioware said fuck the gays, M/M, Strap on sex, They Work it out eventually, awkward human/alien sex lol, does this count as slow burn if it was accidentally this long, ftm trans shep, im starving for m-shep/garrus content so I decided to become my own chef
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27640745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necroneol/pseuds/necroneol
Summary: The lines between romance and bromance get blurred and neither of them know what to do about it until it’s just too hard to ignore.
Relationships: Male Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 20
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! gay garrus fans come get y'all juice!!  
> first couple chapters are a little dry but it picks up I promise :3  
> this is based off my self-insert/commander, but he's basically just paragon shepard, transmasc, with long hair, so feel free to interpret this how you like lolol
> 
> this is also going off of my personal headcanons/altered canon about turian anatomy, in which turians have barbed you-know-whats sheathed behind carapace plates. I've drawn a diagram of sorts on my instagram (https://bit.ly/3fgxQgl) but I'll also explain narratively to some extent, so either way...hope u enjoy! : D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 12/15/2020: I realized my computer was autocorrecting Shepard to Shepherd this entire time and my mild dyslexia never noticed -_- fixing this now

“Commander,” Mordin raised his head from where he stood behind his usual work desk. His tone was one of surprise. “Just typing my response to your message right now, which was sent,” he glanced down again, “One minute, twenty-three seconds ago. Twenty-four. Twenty-five.”   
  
Shepard groaned, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I know.” He tucked his hands behind his back, shoulders stiff, despite his somewhat informal speech, “The suspense was killing me. I figured I would rather face your judgement in person.”   
  
“Judgement?” Mordin repeated, lowering his arm. His holo display faded out, and he stared at Shepard curiously. “You are learning about your crewmates and their physiology. There is no judgement, only the sign of a smart commander.”

Shepard grimaced. “Right.” He didn’t have the balls to explain  _ why  _ he had come to Mordin, but if Mordin wanted to assume it was him being a good leader and getting to know his people, then by all means, let him assume.

“Unless,”

_ Ah, shit. _

“You are asking for information on Turian physiology for reasons unrelated to your position as Commander. A budding relationship, perhaps?” Mordin put a hand to his chin. If it was anyone else, Shepard would have accused him of teasing, but he knew Mordin was genuinely just deducing. “Concern for the differences in anatomy and how to conduct physical intimacy? Is it Garrus Vakarian?”

“I decline to answer.” As if that didn’t make it any more obvious that thats exactly who he was trying to ‘conduct physical intimacy’ with.

Mordin said nothing, but lifted his Omni-tool, input a few commands on his holo-display, and then lowered his arm. Instantly, Shepard’s own Omni-tool responded with the faintest vibration at the back of his hand, signaling he had received a message. “Information on Turians.” Mordin explained, “And some suggestions. Not my own. Pulled them from other sources. Interspecies intercourse is not as uncommon as one may think. Need anything else?”   


Shepard raised his arm, skimming over the attached files for a moment. “That’s all. Thank you, Mordin. Maybe we can keep this between us?”   
  
“Of course.” Mordin turned back to his desk, though Shepard swore he could the hint of a smile on his lips, though his smiles were rare enough that he knew it wasn’t true. Nothing here to warrant a Mordin smile, as far as Shepard knew. “Good luck. Will be here if you need me.”


	2. Chapter 2

The retreat back to his quarters felt ten times more stressful than taking position on the battlefield. He always checked in on Joker before he retired for the night, but then Kelly wanted to say hi, and then Miranda needed to discuss some things about their next scheduled stop at exactly the time in which Shepard was desperately trying to avoid any conversation. It felt like he was carrying smuggled goods, like some poor fool who kept getting roped into harmless interactions with law enforcement agents and other innocent menial tasks on his way to drop off said smuggled goods. Like any second he would bump into someone and his Omni-tool would open (which it wouldn’t do) and everyone would see his Turian dick pics (which were actually illustrated anatomical studies and diagrams meant for education, not pleasure).

When the doors to his quarters finally shut behind him, he turned to press the lock, and then went straight to his bed. He shucked off his clothes, exchanged them for a black tank and grey mesh material shorts, and settled himself into his desk chair. He swiveled around to face his desk, pulled up the materials sent from Mordin, and expanded them with a quick two-finger swipe. It was quite a bit--and the immediate bombardment of the aforementioned anatomical studies did not make it seem any less daunting. But he wanted to do this. He wanted to try.

Him and Garrus had always been close, to say the least. It was hard not to form a tight bond with someone you spent day after day fighting for your lives with. They were like-minded for the most part, and both of them, while they had their flaws of course, were relatively likeable personalities, easy enough to get along with. They knew how to make each other laugh at the end of the day no matter what hardship they had just endured.

Neither of them directly voiced their affections. Even a simple “I care about you,” was really just “Don’t go dying on me, it’ll be embarrassing.” “I love you,” was closest to “You’re lucky I haven’t punched you in the face yet.” “I want to kiss you on the mouth so damn hard right now” translated to “You’re annoying.”

And yet, in the last couple months, it was undeniable that something, whatever you wanted to call it, had begun. It started when Shepard held Garrus’ hand as he lay in med bay, after being turned into Turian swiss cheese, choking on the effort of holding back his tears, lest his sobbing wake the poor man. Incidents in between: Garrus wiping Sheperd’s sweat off his forehead for him after a sparring match; both of them bumping into or reaching over one another, creating contact, then scrambling to hide their respective embarrassment. And the most telling of all: the drunken kisses they shared post Afterlife visits wherever they could. Shepard’s quarters, the elevator, the armory deck, even an empty hallway, it didn’t matter. They were both tipsy and stupid and neither of them said anything before or during or after, except maybe a “good night” or a “see you tomorrow,” but dammit if it wasn’t enough to completely destroy Shepard. Sometimes, hands wandered, but clothes or armor never came off, and the next day no one said anything. It was back to being buddies on the field.

Shepard knew he had feelings. Whether Garrus had any was hard to tell. Things could get pretty homoerotic for two long time battle bros. He could very well just be feeling a little lonely. After all, everyone on the Normandy was whole-heartedly dedicated. Shepard wouldn’t admit it, but he was pretty touch-starved, too.

If Garrus wanted to be friends with benefits and nothing else? That was fine. Shepard actually didn’t expect Garrus to have any further feelings for him anyways. He was hellbent on convincing himself that Garrus was probably only using him for company with no strings attached. 

Either way, if things were going to keep going like they were, surely there was bound to be some sort of... _ something, _ right? Just viewing, or fondling, or maybe even actual sex. Shepard was an overthinker. He wanted to know what he was getting into, so he could show off that he knew all about Turians because he was cool and knowledgeable and somehow use his knowledge to prevent any awkwardness...as if intimacy wasn’t just awkward sometimes to begin with, regardless of species differences.

He put his cheek in one hand, staring at the diagrams and the text. Sometimes, his eyes went wide, or he made little surprised noises, or he frowned thoughtfully as he considered and visualized and tried to imagine himself and Garrus working with what they’ve got without getting too flustered over simple imaginings.

Two files through, then three, and he started to yawn. His eyelids grew heavy, and his arm and head slumped. There was one more attachment Mordin had sent, a video. Shepard groaned and rubbed his eyes. Just one more, then he would get to sleep.

He pressed play, and the video pulled up. No sound, just text. Shepard turned red in the ears and face as models visualized  _ positions  _ between Human and Turian _. _ He was now very glad there was no sound. If it wasn’t for the labels and text explanations, Shepard would have classified this as straight up porn, which he had just asked a member of his squad to send him. Maybe it was some weird medical grade porn. Maybe Mordin was into that.

As helpful as all of this was, he was tired now, and honestly a little overwhelmed. Shepard closed the video and shut down his Omni-tool, trudged from his chair to his bed, and flopped down. Face muffled into his pillow, he grumbled, “He probably doesn’t even like dick.”


	3. Chapter 3

“You got him?” Jack called from the other side of the deck, hands on her hips, as Garrus hooked an arm across Shepard’s back and under his arm, grabbing onto the belt piece of his armor to force him to walk like a puppet. Shepard put his arm around the back of Garrus’ shoulders in response, though he said nothing, simply lowered his head.

“I’ve got him. I’m gonna take him back to his quarters.” Garrus replied as he approached the elevator. Mordin heard the commotion, and came out with a small tonic, which he passed to Garrus. To help prevent and relieve hangover, he explained. They had somewhere to be tomorrow and Shepard needed to be functioning.

Garrus sighed as the elevator doors closed behind them. He glanced down at Shepard, who was very drunk and blinking slowly at the shiny flooring. At least he wasn’t a puker.

“Don’t you think you overdid it a little, Shepard?” Garrus asked. He practically dragged the Commander to his quarters, stopping at the top of the small set of stairs that led down to his sleeping area. He waited, watching Shepard, gauging whether or not he thought he could make it down the stairs without falling. 

Shepard didn’t want to pause. He dragged both of them down the stairs, nearly tripping on the last one. He stumbled and righted himself against the wall. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, blinking slowly up at Garrus. Garrus searched his face, but it was hard to tell what he was thinking when he was drunk.

Garrus led him to the bed and sat him down. He handed him the small tonic. “Drink this.”

Shepard said nothing. He popped the top open and downed it in one go, though his nose did wrinkle afterwards. He set it on the floor beside his bed and the movement caused him to sway. Sort of doubled over, head spinning, he stared at Garrus’s feet.

“Are you going to be alright by tomorrow?”

No answer. Shepard blinked hard now, and sat up slowly. He craned his neck back to see Garrus towering. He had to be at least 6 feet tall. No fair.

“Shepard?”

Shepard nodded. “I’ll be fine.” He wobbled to his feet, and Garrus held out an arm, just in case he had to catch him. It had been a while since he had gotten this drunk, but in his defense, he hadn’t intended to. Buzzed, yes, but not wasted off his ass. He wanted a little drink to take off the edge for what he had planned for tonight, but one drink turned into two, and then three, and you know how it goes from there. Every time he finished a drink he thought about Garrus and he got so nervous he had to order another just to keep from freaking out in front of all of Afterlife, and Garrus himself.

“M’sorry for making you go out of your way.” Shepard’s hands fell awkwardly at his sides. He stared at Garrus’ chest plate. “An’ for making a fool out of myself.”

“Hey, it isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last.” Garrus tried to lighten the mood, smiling a little, “You’ll just have to take care of me next time I get sloshed.”

Shepard laughed, despite the nervous pit growing in his stomach. He kept thinking about it. About kissing Garrus. About touching him. With all of his research and pre-meditation, it wasn’t hard to imagine. Sleepless lonely nights thinking about his stupidly hot, stupidly reliable, stupidly lovable best friend. He didn’t care about tomorrow. He was tired of skirting around the truth that he was always thinking about Garrus. He was determined to make some substantial moves on him tonight, drunk or not, as long as Garrus was consenting.

He raised a gloved hand, putting it to Garrus’ chest plate. “I could...take care of you now.” That had sounded way smoother in his head. He pursed his lips together. “If you know what I mean.” His hand slid up, around the side of his guard and closer to his shoulder and back. Garrus didn’t remove it, and his own hand came to rest on Shepard’s hip, but still he hesitated.   


“You’re drunk.” Garrus stated.

“We’re always drunk when we kiss.”

“Buzzed.” he corrected. “Not totally wasted, like you are right now.”

Shepard’s free hand came to his chest. Metal clinked against metal quietly. His voice was quiet, too. “So you’ll kiss me when I’m buzzed, but not when I’m drunk, and not when I’m sober either?”

It was hard to tell--Turian facial expressions were very different from human ones--but Garrus seemed a little taken aback. And flustered. His mandibles jittered. “You’ve...never asked me to kiss you when you were sober.”

“I didn’t know it was an option I had.” Shepard mumbled, rubbing his thumb over the blue metal beneath his hand. The fibers of his glove snagged on the jagged edges of his damaged armor. He glanced down, then back up, trying his best to keep cool. “Is it?”

He took Shepard’s arm which was slung over him, and lowered it gently to his side. Shepard took the hint. His hand on his chest fell, and Garrus removed his own touch from the man’s waist. “Ask me again when we’re both sober.” Garrus replied.

Shepard tried not to look hurt. His vague answer and his firm rejection stung. But he knew, really, that Garrus was being a good man, and a better friend. He was looking out for him and respecting him. Consent was hard when alcohol was involved. And besides...if they were going to try anything, Shepard didn’t want their first time to be under the influence. When he was sober he would have to thank him, even if right now, all he wanted to do was hide and wallow in shame.

Shepard stepped back, backs of his knees to the bed. “Sorry, Vakarian.”

“Don’t be.” Garrus leaned in, pressing his mouth to Shepard’s cheek. Much like a cat nuzzling...a Turian kiss. Shepard sighed, half in content, half in lingering disappointment.

Garrus turned away, but not before grabbing the empty tonic on the floor. He made his way back up the stairs and to the door. “Goodnight, Shepard. I’ll see you in the morning. If you have a hangover, I’m kicking your ass.”

“Yes, sir.”


	4. Chapter 4

A month passed. A new squad member joined. Grunt. The ship was tense. Grunt was not necessarily unfriendly, but his constant talk of gutting and ripping heads from shoulders unsettled many. Shepard tried to keep an open mind and to devote himself wholeheartedly to recruiting the last remaining people on his suggested dossier, but it proved a difficult task.

It didn’t help that he was, very childishly, avoiding Garrus, his closet companion, next only to Joker and Jacob...and maybe Mordin. He didn’t have anyone to talk to and it was his own damn fault.

Garrus, poor guy, had tried to get his attention. At first he joked when Shepard didn’t assign him for missions anymore. Then he got a little pissed. Then he relented, and tried to get casual. He would bring his tray of food and sit next to Shepard, and Shepard would scarf down whatever he had left, and then hurry off, and stopped eating in the dining areas after that. He tried indirect contact through Kelly, asking her to tell Joker to tell Jacob that he wanted to talk to the Commander whenever he had some time. Shepard always said yes and never went to see him.

Eventually, Garrus seemed to give up. He stopped bothering, stopped watching Shepard from across the deck. If Shepard didn’t want to see him? Fine. He got the message loud and clear.

That was, until Shepard had returned pretty scratched up from what was supposed to be a simple recon mission, and when he had gone to see Mordin to get fixed up, Garrus had snuck in after he was gone to ask about his Commander’s condition.

“A few scratches. Nothing more. Did not self-administer medi-gel. Said he forgot. Has been forgetting a lot of things lately.”

Garrus frowned--or rather, his eyes did. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Mordin shook his head. “Commander runs at suboptimal levels, ship runs at suboptimal levels as result. You and Shepard are close--perhaps you should talk to him. Could be emotional condition affecting well-being, or some other thing entirely. Would be best to know and resolve.”

“Right.”

It wasn’t going to be easy with Shepard disappearing everytime Garrus entered the same room as him, but hell, this wasn’t about them and whatever weird shit they had going on, this was about Shepard, and his crew. Mordin had a point. Now that he was thinking about it, Shepard _had_ been acting uncharacteristically lately. Forgetting to restock his suit’s medi-gel between missions was just one part of it. If this got any worse, he might forget to bring his guns one day.

So he did the best he could think to do. Shepard wasn’t gonna like it, but it wasn’t Garrus’ fault he refused to speak to him normally.

He stood facing Shepard’s private quarters. There was a red display over it, indicating it was locked. He did nothing, just stood there and stared at the door with his arms crossed over his chest. He could hear EDI’s voice muffled from inside.

_Commander Shepard, Garrus Vakarian has come to see you._

For a second, its silent. Then, the red display is replaced with a green one. Garrus steps forward, and the door hisses open for him. Shepard is sitting at his desk, back to the door, doing something on his Omni-tool, with his holo-display expanded. When he swivels his chair to see Garrus, the display minimizes.

Garrus had put some decent consideration into what he going to say on his way here, but now that he was actually looking Shepard in the face, all wits fled. Frustration flared in him.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’ve been busy,” Shepard replied.

“Okay...busy _and_ avoiding me.” His frustration was evident. He was too ruffled to try to hide it from his tone. “Shepard. What’s going on? You’ve been sloppy lately. The whole crew is noticing, and I--the only one you are very obviously avoiding--am stuck with checking on you. Look,” He put his hands up, “you don’t have to pour your heart out to me. Just tell me what’s wrong so I can get someone else to help you.” Despite his annoyance, he really did care. Even if Shepard didn’t want him to be the one to help him, he wanted to make sure _someone_ did.

Shepard moaned, putting his fingers to his temple. This was a mess. All of this. And it was all 100% completely and totally his fault. “Garrus, I- I’m sorry. There’s nothing wrong, really. I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now. I’ll do better, alright?”

“‘Doing better’ is not what this is about, Shepard.” Garrus was still gruff, but Shepard knew it was just because he didn’t know how to express his concern very well otherwise, because, well, Shepard was the same way. Talking about his feelings was way harder than ignoring them or, better yet, taking them out on the field. Blowing people’s brains out was much easier than reflecting on his own.

Garrus came down the stairs, leaning against the railing, and crossing his arms over his chest again. Shepard’s room was dim, he realized, with the only light coming from his warm desk lamp beside him and his blue fish tank. Even his accent lights were turned off. Maybe he had a migraine.

They stared at each other, neither saying anything for a moment. Shepard tensed under his gazed, tugging at the thin sleeve of his black tank top, pulling it rightly on his shoulder. In the near darkness, his scars were much more visible than usual. The faint orange glow they gave off stood out. They lined his arms and legs, and cut across the bridge of his nose and the curve of his cheeks and brow. Garrus hated them because they reminded him of so many bad things, and yet, loved them all the same. Much like his own scars, they were proof of all he had done and seen. They were proof that Shepard was _here._

Eventually, Garrus spoke, quietly. “Is this about…”

_Us?_

“...that night you got drunk?”

Bingo. Shepard immediately looked away and grimaced. “That’s not the _only_ thing on my mind.” He muttered.

“Alright,” Garrus eyed him cautiously, “but it _is_ on your mind. And it’s something that I can help you with. So let’s start there.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Shepard said quickly, shaking his head, “I was stupid, and I made an idiot out of myself, and I acted inappropriately. That’s all there is to it. I’m sorry that I never apologized. Or thanked you for watching out for me. But I’m doing it right now.”

“Woah, woah, hold on,” Garrus put his hand up to stop him before he could keep rambling, “I think you’ve got the wrong idea here, Shepard. Yes, you got pretty drunk and I had to carry your ass, but…” he trailed off, frustrated and confused. They were always on the same wavelength, and the fact that they had fallen so far out of sync right now was hard to comprehend. Shepard was withholding thoughts and feelings and Garrus didn’t like it. He wanted to understand.

Shepard sighed, raking his hands through his hair. “I just don’t want you to get the wrong impression of me, Garrus. You’re my closest friend.”

“Shepard, I’ve been with you for how many years now? Grieved your death, witnessed your hardest times, put my life on the line for your time and time again, and you think one night is going to ruin my image of you?” Garrus scoffed. “Either we must not be as close as I thought, or you’re a fool.”

“Maybe I am.” Shepard grumbled, glaring up at him.

“Shepard…” Garrus sighed. “If you’re worrying that you made me uncomfortable, don’t. I turned you down then because you were way too inebriated and I didn’t want to take advantage of you. Nothing more.”

Shepard leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “And you aren’t bothered by anything else I said?”  
  
“What? About us...kissing when we’re sober?”

Shepard swallowed dryly. God, this was so embarrassing. “Yeah.”

Garrus glanced away. “No.”

Silence fell. Shepard’s leg bounced. His hands picked at each other, at loose strings on his shirt, anything. Garrus was still, save for the nervous fluttering of his mandibles, and his roaming eyes. The air felt cold and awkward now.

When Shepard's voice finally cut through again, Garrus actually sighed in relief. 

“So where does this leave us?”  
  
Garrus lifted and dropped one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know, Shepard. You tell me. You’re the one who turned into a hermit thinking about it.”   
  
Shepard rolled his eyes. “Very funny. Make fun of me for worrying profusely about my best friend.” Garrus smirked, and Shepard relaxed, just a little. He sat back in his chair and took a quick look at his wrist, where his Omni-tool flashed the time. When he looked back up at Garrus, the Turian was watching him quietly, patiently. “It’s getting late,” Shepard said, “and today was pretty rough. Give me some time to think? I’m still taking in the fact that you don’t absolutely hate my guts.”   
  
“That should be my line, with the way you were avoiding me. You would think I had some infectious plague.” Garrus teased but quickly relented. Shepard didn’t seem to be in the teasing mood right now. “But I understand. We can talk about this later. You know where to find me when you’re ready.”

“I know. Thank you, Garrus. Seriously.” Shepard smiled, albeit a little awkwardly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, so don’t worry about that.” Garrus turned, going back up the stairs, and to the door. As it slid open automatically, he glanced over his shoulder. “Sleep well, Shepard.”

“G’night, Vakarian.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its funny that this was supposed to be a very quick porn without plot fic and now 18 pages and counting they haven't done so much as kiss.........my heart boner for him is just as big as my actual boner for him I guess
> 
> anyways! enjoy!! I love reading comments and seeing your guys' support <3

_hey garrus._

_free for the night?_

_Sure. Give me a sec to finish up here,_

_then I’m all yours._

_take your time. no rush._

* * *

Shepard put his head in his hands as his Omni-tool display minimized. Shaking his fingers through his loose hair, he sighed and closed his eyes. His heart was going a million miles an hour right now, and his head was full of only one thought: Garrus.

In the time since their talk, weeks ago, awkwardness had eased. Their drunken kisses had resumed and their painful-to-watch homoerotic behvaior was flourishing. Everyone on the Normandy was glad to have their Commander functioning normally again, even if it meant they all had to go back to pretending not to notice their on- and off-duty flirting.

But as the deadline of their ultimate goal grew closer, Shepard found himself feeling panicked. He knew--everyone on the Normandy knew--that their chances of survival in the end were unlikely at best. Among many dilemmas this presented Shepard with, one of them was Garrus. Or more specifically, his feelings for Garrus.

Did he tell him now, with the slight chance that he might actually reciprocate, and they could spend their last couple days together in the way Shepard so desperately wanted them to be? Or should he never speak a word of it all, and hope that he could find contentedness in their current dynamic, and let his true feelings fizzle out without risk?

But Shepard knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his feelings to himself. Even if he didn’t feel the same or it ruined everything between them. He needed Garrus to know just how important he was to him.

Shepard had conditioned himself at this point to ease his love-life nerves with drinks, but not tonight. He was facing his anxieties head on and sober, because that was what Garrus deserved. And because it wasn’t a good habit in the first place.

But dammit...he needed to calm down.

Shepard stood, pushed his chair in with his foot, and crossed the room up the small set of stairs to his bathroom. He tried not to stare at himself in the mirror too long or else he would start to note all of his flaws and pick and prod at his own insecurities, but he splashed his face with soothing warm water, and let the faucet run. The steam fogged up the mirror and clung to him, warming his shaking hands.

The sound of EDI’s voice nearly gave him a heart attack.

_Commander Shepard, Garrus Vakarian has come to see you._

Shepard gripped the sides of the sink, standing there for a moment. When he felt he couldn’t make Garrus wait any longer, he dried his hands on the legs of his pants, and left the bathroom. He rounded the corner to the door. It hissed as it parted open.

Garrus stood there, cool as always. He nodded in greeting.

“Hey,” Shepard moved to the side, and Garrus walked in. “Get everything done?” The door closed behind them. Shepard followed him down the stairs and sat on the edge of his bed. He tried to keep cool; posture open, shoulders high and legs broad. But the facade lasted all of two seconds before Shepard drew in on himself, clasping his hands together in his lap.  
  
“For tonight, yeah,” Garrus came to lean against the tank. It lit him up from the back, creating a halo of bright blue light, as colorful fish and other aquatic creatures swam around inside. He eyed his Commander curiously. “You look nervous. What’s up?”

Shepard ran his hands through his hair again. Nervous habit. “I, uh...I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Garrus nodded. “I’m listening.”

“It’s about you. Or...Us.”

“Okay.”

And that was all he could manage. With glossy eyes, Shepard stared pathetically at Garrus, who gave a stare of his own in response. Eventually, when Shepard didn’t continue to speak, Garrus made a barking laugh, and groaned as he rolled his head back. “Shepard, come _on_.” He uncrossed his arms, only to put his hands on his hips. “Whatever’s on your mind, just say it. I told you I’m listening, and I mean it. Tell me what you need to tell me.”

Shepard grinned sheepishly, before it quickly dissolved into a shaky frown. “I’m sorry...I’m just nervous. I’ve thought about it for...Gods,” he paused and thought for a moment, “months now. But even still I have no idea how to say what I want to.”

Garrus shrugged, and unhitched himself from the glass tank wall. “So just say it.” He approached the bed slowly, and as he came closer, Shepard had to crane his neck back to see him. “Don’t worry about flowery words or sophisticated meanings. Just say it as it is.”

“Yeah. Yeah...Okay.” Shepard took a long, deep breath.

“Garrus, I like you.”

Garrus blinked. Slowly, he opened his mouth to reply, but Shepard hastily continued.

“Okay, that sounds stupid. I _love_ you, Garrus, I love you. Not for your body or for your usefulness in this crew, but for you. I’m so fucking tired of pretending like I’m not constantly in awe of everything you do. You’re so strong and capable, one of the most loyal men I’ve ever known; you’re funny, witty, you know exactly how to make me laugh; you’re so tough and brave and reliable, and you never let anyone see, but you’re sensitive, too, and you care so much for the people in your life. I would trust you to keep me safe if we were both blindfolded and surrounded by a horde of Collectors. I would find the finite end of the infinite solar system if you asked me to.”

At this point, his mouth was dry, and his voice was shaking very clearly, but he went on, “I know we’re just friends. I know we only fool around when we’re drunk, and we never talk about it, and that’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it, and you don’t have to feel the same way but please, please don’t hate me. Nothing has to change. I just need you to know how much you mean to me before this is over. I need you to know that I appreciate you. I appreciate your efforts for my sake and for your own and for everyone else you’ve ever given your efforts to. I can never choose anyone else. It’s always you, Garrus. Getting to be with you again--by your side--is the greatest gift and the worst curse I’ll ever have, because while I’m forever thankful to have you with me, I know, in the end, when the final battle comes, it will be me who led you into it.

So, even if you don’t return my feelings, I know that, at the very least, I should show you how important you are, and how endlessly grateful I am for all you’ve ever done. You’re a great man, Garrus. There’s no one else like you in all of the galaxies.”

With his rant done, Shepard deflated, and all of the air left his lungs in a sigh. Garrus stared at Shepard with wide eyes. Some time during Shepard’s mini speech, his hands had fallen from his hips, and hung lamely at his sides, and he was so still he looked like he was frozen in place. Shepard’s head was spinning, and he stared down at his hands, brow drawn tightly in. He braced himself for Garrus’ rejection, or worse, disgust, but it never came. No one said a word.

Shepard closed his eyes in the silence and ground his teeth together. His face burned with embarrassment.

Yet, at the gentle touch of a gloved hand on his own, he raised his head. Garrus stood over him, bended slightly so as not to tower too much, watching Shepard with an expression that was hard to read. Shepard dared to turn his hand over and took Garrus’ into both of his. When Garrus didn’t pull away, he squeezed.

“Shepard, I…” Garrus cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I’m only quiet because, well...I’m at a loss for words. I’m shocked. I mean--” He put a hand to his head. “I didn’t think this day would ever come.”

“What do you mean?”

“This--I...of course I feel the same. Shepard, when I thought I lost you, that was one of the hardest moments in my life.” Garrus came to sit beside the other man. The bed creaked under his weight as he curled over slightly, resting his elbow on his knee and his head in his hand. The hand that Shepard still held finally returned the pressure.

“Since then, I’ve been committing each day to memory. Each day, each conversation...if it's with you, it's meaningful. Even the bad times, they’re worth remembering, and I...well, I never thought I would tell you. I didn’t think I needed to. I felt like I was pretty obvious with my feelings, and that if we had gone so long without saying anything, it was because you knew but you didn’t feel the same way, so, you didn’t want to make anything official. And I’m alright with that, or I thought I was, but now that you tell me that this whole time, we’ve just been dancing around each other and kissing like it was a secret, I just…” He shook his head slowly. “Frankly, I’m relieved. I don’t know how much longer I could have kept it up.”

“Wait,” Shepard held up his free hand, shaking his head quickly. “Are you serious? Garrus--” He leaned in, frowning, “You don’t have to make shit up just to make me feel better--”  
  
Garrus groaned. “Why do you always assume the worst? I’m not making anything up, Shepard. I mean every word.”

“Gods…” Shepard turned his head, hiding his face in Garrus’ shoulder. The metal of his armor cooled his hot face nicely, and he sighed. As he did, his shoulders relaxed, and he could finally _breathe._ “I think I might die, right now.”

Garrus barked out another laugh. “Let’s not do that. We’ve got a lot left to do before we’re dead.”

“Yeah…” Shepard swallowed thickly and squeezed Garrus’ hand. “If we don’t die when all of this is over, can we still do this? Kissing and holding hands.”

“Sure,” Garrus chuckled and straightened up, and turned to face the man beside him, who raised his head to gaze up at him. “But let’s not wait until then. I say we start now.”

“Agreed.” Shepard smiled and withdrew one hand from Garrus’. He brought it up to the Turian’s face, thumbing over his cheek and over the back of his neck, where carapace met softer flesh. Garrus’ mandibles did their cute nervous jittering thing, and it only made Shepard smile more.

“Gods, you’re so handsome. And so tall. And so sexy.” Shepard leaned in, keeping his eyes on Garrus’ mouth. “It’s a good thing we’re stuck on this ship together all the time, or else I think I’d have to share with the rest of the worlds.” He pressed his lips to the corner of his mouth in a chaste, gentle kiss. Garrus responded to his joke with nothing more than a distracted hum.

Garrus’ hand found its place at Shepard’s waist, and he turned his head, inviting the kiss. Shepard took him up on the offer, placed trails of kisses up and down his face and his neck, until finally, it was no longer clean pecks, but a deep, longing kiss. He pressed his weight against the Turian and twisted where he sat to touch their knees together. Garrus’ mouth parted, and Shepard took the lead. He panted as his tongue met Garrus’, and their breath mingled hotly.

It was funny. Even though this was their first time kissing when neither of them had had so much as a drop of alcohol, it felt like they were intoxicated all the same. Garrus’ groans and his hands grabbing and squeezing his hips and thighs, combined with Shepard’s own wandering hands and occasional whines, made it very hard for either of them to keep a clear head.

Shepard put at hand on his blue chestplate and pushed down, but paused as soon as Garrus actually hit the bed. The sound of his metal suit clanking against itself reminded him that there was one really big obstacle in the way.

“I think your armor might be a little hard to get around.” Shepard said, tapping the metal.

Garrus glanced down at himself, then back up at Shepard. “I’ll take it off, but...I don’t want to have sex. Not tonight.”  
  
“Oh.” Shepard was a little surprised, maybe even a little disappointed, but he nodded, “Okay. That’s alright.”

Garrus sat up, and Shepard shifted to let him. He put a hand on his thigh, and it covered nearly the whole thing. It really was unfair how big he was. “We can. But later. Tonight I just want to lay with you. Is that alright?”

Where fleeting disappointment had been, warmth and love took its place. Shepard quickly agreed. He sat back as Garrus stood to dismantle his armor and put it in Shepard’s closet for now. It was easy enough with smart clasps and pieces that came off in a sort of chain, but a lengthy process nonetheless, and Garrus was too proud to let anyone, even Shepard, help him out of it. By the time he was done, Garrus was left in his undersuit: a mesh black set that hugged his body, with long sleeves that extended to cover his fingers partially like fingerless gloves, a high rise collar to cover the carapace hood over the back of his neck, and long pants which were tailored to his feet the same as his sleeves. The shirt had a zipper down one arm, and the pants had a zipper down the crotch, but everything stayed zipped. And while Garrus sat back down on the bed, Shepard turned away from Garrus to exchange his day clothes for his pajamas.

Now, both free of their restricting armor and fabrics, they laid down. Shepard straddled Garrus’ hips as he lay on his back, exploring his body through the mesh however Garrus would let him. Before each touch, he asked, “Is this okay?” “Here?” “Can I touch you?” And each time Garrus consented, he closed his eyes as Shepard’s hands roamed.

And when he was satisfied with what he had felt, he let Garrus have his turn. They flipped over, so that Garrus now sat above Shepard.

“Sure you can handle my weight?” Garrus asked as he hovered hesitantly over the smaller human.

Shepard smirked. “Might as well practice. I like the view--so we’ll have to try this position out again later.”

“We’ll see how sexy it is when I’m crushing all your internal organs because humans are so poorly designed,” Garrus muttered as he lowered himself, settling carefully. Shepard grunted and shifted, but still snickered as soon as he could find his breath.

“Maybe I’m into being crushed, you don’t know.”

“I don’t...I guess I’ll just have to find out.”

He ran his dull talons over Shepard’s skin, watching as goosebumps raised and his body shivered. How soft he was. Even where he could feel solid muscle beneath, he was still so fragile and easy to puncture. So small outside of his metal shell. But Garrus knew it was a ruse. He had seen Shepard in action enough times to know that he was just as tough as any Turian or Krogran out there.

Shepard closed his eyes. His breathing slowed, and his hands came to rest on Garrus’ thighs. “Y’know,” he said quietly, “I asked Mordin for some readings on Turian anatomy. It was very embarrassing. He knew what I was really asking for right away.”  
  
“I know.”

Shepard frowned and cracked open one eye. His hands stilled. “You know?”

“Yes, because I did the same thing just before you did. When I was talking to him a while ago, it came up again, and Mordin let it slip that you had also asked for some educational materials of your own. He isn’t very good at keeping secrets.”

Shepard groaned and turned his head. “Dammit, Mordin.”

Garrus laughed. “Don’t curse him. He was only trying to help us. Clearly we’re both too oblivious to do anything ourselves.” With a grunt, he rolled off of Shepard and over onto his back. Shepard instantly curled onto his side, into Garrus’ already open arms. Both of them grabbed a side of the blanket and pulled it in, wrapping them up in a tight cocoon of shared warmth. Shepard yawned as he snuggled closer.

“I’m still going to fuss at Mordin the next time I see him,” he grumbled.

“Oh, don't worry--me too.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twenty million years later and they finally get somewhere...congrats, guys

“Garrus--”

“Hold on, hold on,” Garrus huffed as the door to Shepard’s quarters closed behind them, and he stumbled into the room. Shepard himself was holding tightly onto Garrus, arms gripping around his neck and legs curled in. There had been an attempt by Garrus to carry his Commander bridal style, for extra romantic affect, but it was hard to carry someone in a clunky armored space suit, especially when that someone was already a very awkward and squirmy person, and was also afraid of heights, and found Garrus’ impressive stature of 6’8” to be just high enough to make his stomach flip. 

Garrus made it down the stairs with only a little difficulty, and when they finally reached the bed, he dropped Shepard unceremoniously onto it. Shepard flopped down onto his back with an “oof!” He groaned as he sat up.

It had been Dr. Chakwas birthday today, and in celebration, the Normandy and her crew hosted a small party, complete with cake and gifts and drinks. The party wasn’t technically over yet--it was in that weird winding down stage parties sometimes got to where everyone was kind of over the party itself, but still wanted to talk to one another, so they sort of broke off into groups or pairs and chatted amongst themselves while still partaking in the food and drinks.

Garrus was a little bit more of a partier than Shepard, but that really wasn’t saying much, seeing as how Shepard pretty much despised parties. It wast easy for the two of them to get bored and find the desire to sneak off. So, in the jovial mood of the festivities, Garrus and Shepard had done just that. Off to have their own little party, they went to the place that had the most privacy, probably out of the whole ship: Shepard’s room.

At this point, it was basically where Garrus slept anyways.

Shepard stood just long enough to reach up, grab the risen collar of Garrus’ suit, and yank him down. Garrus had to use both hands to catch himself, one on either side of Shepard. He loomed over the smaller man, who grinned against his mouth as he pressed sloppy kisses to his face. Their breath smelled of alcohol, and it made them giddy and emboldened.

Between them, Garrus muttered something about taking his armor off, and Shepard relented to let him do so. They both took a moment to undress and get into their own sleep attire. For Garrus, this meant no clothes at all (as Turians preferred to sleep naked when in a safe environment), and for Shepard, this meant his usual tank, only this time without the shorts.

Garrus got onto the bed before Shepard could pull him again. He leaned against the headboard as Shepard settled himself onto his lap. Garrus’ hands gripped both of Shepard’s thighs, running along his bare skin. He could feel the soft hair, so thin and light it was nearly invisible, and when he drug his talons down his leg, he could feel Shepard’s body shiver at the sensation.

Shepard put his hand under Garrus’ chin, and gently tilted his face up. With access to his neck, where the plates did not reach, he could kiss freely, and revel in the way it made Garrus squirm. Then, with his lips brushing against his throat, he whispered, “Can we do it tonight?”

“Only if you want to.” Garrus replied, eyes closed. He gave Shepard’s ass a squeeze, talons pressing into skin, and Shepard’s breath hitched.

“I do,” Shepard mumbled, pausing in his kisses, “I want you so bad. Please?”

Now it was Garrus’ turn to stop breathing for a second. How could Shepard be so nervous he would hide his feelings for months out of fear of rejection, yet say something like that so easily? He was a beast of a man, one to be feared, that was for certain. Garrus exhaled a short, shaky sigh. “Alright...but Mordin said we would probably need--”   
  
“I’ve got it.” Shepard cut him off, and then smiled shyly. “I already have stuff. I did my homework, too, remember?” He pressed a quick peck to Garrus’ temple before crawling out of his lap and off the bed. He hurried over to his desk. There was a small drawer towards the bottom, which was locked to anyone without his Omni-tool. When he put his hand on the handle, the code was recognized, and it clicked as the lock disengaged. He pulled the drawer open to reveal quite the stash:

A bottle of lube (water based, to prevent irritation on either parties), a smaller vial of some other mysterious liquid, a box of turian condoms, a small vibrator in a very cute shade of pink, two strap-ons, one on the smaler scale, and another tipping past average size, both ridged and the color of chrome, and last but not least, a bottle of painkillers (Mordin prescribed).

Garrus’s eyes went wide. “Damn, Shepard…” He glanced up at Shepard, who was trying very hard not to look him in the eye, and then back down the the drawer. “You got all that...for us?”   
  
“Well, no, but some of it, yes,” Shepard admitted, “Um...what do you want to use?”   
  
“Huh?” Garrus blinked, stunned.

Shepard sat down in the chair as he rummaged through his drawer of goodies. “I mean...who’s putting what in where? If you want me to fuck you, you’ve got these two to pick from,” he gestured towards the strap-ons, “or I can take it. I’ve got condoms, lube, and this stuff I bought on Omega that’s supposed to help me get past the, uh...Turian quirks.” He held up the small vial, which contained a semi-translucent substance, similar to honey in color. He set it on the desk, and kept on, despite the fact that his whole face was beet red, “Or we can try oral first, if you like that more. I’ve never done it before, but…I’d try it for you. Of course, theres always just our hands--you can never go wrong with hands--and I have this…” He held up the vibrator, and Garrus put a hand to his head.

“I honestly don’t know where to start or what to do,” Garrus admitted quietly. “What do  _ you _ want?”

Shepard looked over to him, searching his face. It was clear he was just as flustered as he was. He hummed thoughtfully, turning back to the drawer, and then made some noise of revelation, and held up a finger, signaling for Garrus to wait. He grabbed the drawer from the bottom and side, and with a grunt of effort, he pulled the drawer off of its track and out of the desk. He set it down on the floor beside the bed.

“Y’know what? Let’s not worry about it right now. If we need something, we can grab it.” Shepard crawled onto the bed, back into Garrus’ lap. “I don’t want to worry about the details. We’ll figure it out as we go along.” He ran his hands up Garrus’ chest, over the muscle of his arms and down his wrists until he finally intertwined their fingers. Garrus blinked gratefully at him, and lifted one hand to nuzzle the back of his knuckles.

They took it slow. Like before, settling into things with exploration and gentle touch. Their bodies were very different, but there were still some common areas of pleasure. Garrus’ neck was sensitive--kissing or nipping there worked wonders. Shepard’s thighs were a good place to grab or squeeze for a reaction. Garrus liked fingers in his mouth. Shepard liked hands in his hair. When Garrus grabbed the bottom of his shirt and tugged, Shepard lifted his arms, letting him pull it off.

Talons touched the scars at his chest first. In an inverted T-shape, they marked a gender confirming surgery he had received many, many years ago. Shepard explained this, guiding Garrus’ hands as he spoke. Then he touched another scar, a burn-like pattern on his side. From a surprise attack with a heavy pistol, Shepard told. Then the faint orange ones, from his reconstruction under Cerberus. They glowed at his hips and on his arms and his collar. The medical team said they would fade eventually, but Shepard wasn’t sure if they ever would. At least he didn’t mind them too much.

But thinking of scars was bitter-sweet. As Shepard ran his hands over the rough surface of Garrus’ damaged shell, he thanked him, aloud, for being alive. Garrus smiled as he laid Shepard down.

As Garrus positioned himself between his legs, Shepard put his legs over Garrus’ hips and both hands behind his own head. He shivered as his hands crept slowly along his inner thigh and slipped under the tight fabric of his briefs, only for a moment.

“It feels good here, right?” Garrus rubbed a finger over the crotch of his briefs, and Shepard’s leg twitched involuntarily. He kneed poor Garrus in the side, but Garrus only grinned as Turians did. “I see.” He turned his hand to have one finger where his ass was, and the other still on his front. He pressed in on the fabric, and Shepard whined.

“There,” he hissed, “I want you to fuck me there.”

Garrus huffed, breathless and embarrassed. But he kept on. At first, he left his briefs on, warming Shepard up with clothed touches. When they grew damp, he pulled them off. He was wet enough to use his own arousal to lubricate, but even still, Shepard insisted he take his fingers in his mouth. So while Garrus carefully rubbed--minding his talons which seemed very dangerous around such soft flesh--Shepard sucked on his fingers.

Garrus watched as he squirmed beneath him. He realized there were certain places that caused certain reactions. His clit, for one, made Shepard jerk and moan. Putting his fingers inside here had given him the exact opposite reaction, though. Shepard groaned in an unpleasant way, and his nose wrinkled, and he shook his head. Okay, not there.

So he stuck to his clit. Rubbing back and forth, side to side, and circular--that was it. Something about this particular motion drove Shepard wild. He took Garrus’ fingers out of his mouth to turn his head and bite his own in an attempt to keep himself quiet. The faster Garrus went, the more Shepard shook. He panted heavily, eyes fluttering, fingers digging into the sheets. The skin over his knuckles threatened to break under his teeth.

“Fuck--fuck, Garrus, oh, Gods,” Shepard hissed between his teeth and rolled his head as he writhed. His toes curled in, and then, in one harsh jerk and a quiet curse, he came. His body spasmed as he rode it out, and Garrus put his hands on his hips, rubbing them gently until he finally calmed down.

When the pounding in his head subsided well enough, Shepard licked his lips and looked up at Garrus through half lidded eyes. “Shit, Garrus…”   
  
Garrus turned his head to kiss Shepard’s knee. When he straightened up, he smiled. “Still wanna go?”   
  
Shepard grinned. “Are you kidding me? We haven’t even started, Vakarian. We’ve got  _ all _ night.” He sat up slowly, glancing down between them. He had made quite the mess, but more importantly, Garrus’ pelvic plates were starting to open. Garrus averted his gaze shyly.

“You don’t have to...I mean, we can just focus on--”   
  
Shepard shook his head and quickly cut him off. “I want you to feel just as good as me.” He looked at the Turian, and reached out. “Can I?”

Garrus nodded. Shepard put a hand on his chest, laying the other man down. He tucked his hair behind his ear as he settled himself between Garrus’ legs. He smoothed his palm up and down Garrus’ inner thigh, taking note of the texture and the tension of his muscle hidden beneath. When Garrus seemed to relax a little more, Shepard put his hand on his plates. The feeling on his hard parts (no pun intended) was much less muted, like he was being touched through six layers of fabric, but even still, knowing  _ who  _ was touching him made every single touch feel like fire.

“Don’t force it,” Garrus mumbled, both hands over his eyes, “If you just…”

“Rub?” Shepard ran two fingers over the split in the casing, and Garrus shuddered pleasantly in response. He hummed as rested his cheek against Garrus’ inner thigh, and braced himself on his elbow. Slowly, he coaxed them to part, as his arousal pushed them open, and his sheath was revealed. Shepard rubbed along the sheath entrance, two fingers slick with spit, until finally his cock unfurled.

Shepard swallowed hard.

“Fuck. It really is barbed.”

Garrus lifted his head quickly, panicking. “Shepard, really, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, I-I know that, that--”

“Garrus,” Shepard glared at him, and he shut up. “I  _ want  _ to do this. Just let me take care of you, okay? Tell me what feels good and what doesn’t.”

“Okay…” Slowly, Garrus laid back down, though this time he didn’t close his eyes. Even with his hands still over them, he peeked at Shepard from under his fingers, watching him.

Shepard took it carefully in one hand. It was of moderate size, small enough to fit in Shepard’s hands, but much more flexible than any human’s. It was softer, too, maybe a little slimy...not a very attractive word, but what else could you call it? There was a knot at its base where it protruded from his sheath, and along its underside and both sides there were rows of barbs angled downwards. 

He remembered something in the materials Mordin had sent him about not rubbing  _ up,  _ but rather, keeping all motion  _ down.  _ It made sense, sort of, if you thought about it. Like how ruffling a bird’s feathers the wrong way didn’t feel too good. But even still, he was curious. He swept a finger along the underside of one of the barbs, and was surprised to find that it actually was not sharp or spiny as he had feared, but dull, and cased with the same soft flesh as the rest of his dick. Shepard’s chest swelled. With renewed hope that this was, in fact, going to be a good time, he opened his mouth.

He licked at Garrus’ tip and placed kisses here and there. It was hard to lick or suck with the barbs all along the length, but Shepard did his best. The tip and the base were easy to access, and he found out very quickly that the knot served the same function as his own clit. A supercenter for pleasure. When he circled it with his fingertips, Garrus moaned and one hand came down to grip his hair.

At the sound of his name, Shepard paused. He looked up at Garrus with his dick against his cheek. “You okay?” He asked gently.

“Yeah, I just...wow. It’s a lot. I’ve never--I mean, Turians don’t usually…”   
  
“Right. Needle teeth and stuff.” Shepard laughed, “Want me to stop? We can try something else.”

Garrus nodded. Shepard sat up. While he cracked his neck and back, Garrus put his hands on his sides, and leaned in to nuzzle his chest. Shepard smoothed his hands over the back of Garrus’ head and sighed in content. He could stay in Garrus’ arms like this forever. Although, maybe he should take care of the dick pressing against him first.

With his arms still around Garrus, Shepard leaned back, enough to see his partner’s face as he asked, “Do you want to try putting it in?”   
  
The Turian’s hold on his sides tightened. The thought thrilled him. He could only imagine how soft he was going to feel. He consented quickly and Shepard turned away for a moment, so he could stretch to reach into the drawer on the floor. He pulled out the small vial and the bottle of lube, and tossed the condoms into Garrus’ arms. While Garrus opened them, Shepard opened the small vial.

“I guess this is some sort of aphrodisiac,” he mused aloud as he set the top aside. He held the bottle up to the light. It was really very lovely to look at. “The girl who sold it to me said it would numb me up, just a little. Apparently, she has a human girlfriend herself, and she said it works great.”

Garrus eyed the bottle curiously.“How do you...apply it?” Shepard put some onto his fingers, and then screwed the top back on with his other hand. He reached down and put his fingers against his asshole. He looked up at Garrus as he pushed one finger in, pushing the liquid in with it. Garrus’ heart fluttered nervously. “Ah...Like that.” He concluded simply.

Shepard ‘s face was so hot he thought it might melt off. As he worked himself slowly, he kept his eyes anywhere but on Garrus. And yet, he hoped that Garrus was watching.“I-I have to get myself ready,” he mumbled, “It will take a second. I can, um...touch you, while I’m doing this, if you want me to. To keep things going.” But Garrus shook his head.

“Focus on you.” he sat back and put his hand on his dick. “I’m a grown man. I can take care of myself. Especially when I’ve got a good show.” Shepard scoffed.

He tried to work fast, but he wanted to be careful. Even if the ridgings on Garrus’ dick were much softer than he had thought they would be, the fact is, his dick was still barbed. He only hoped that Turian woman was telling the truth about her mysterious concotion.

When he was finally confident that he was ready, he sat back, using one hand to prop himself up while he flexed his fingers on the other. He glanced down. “Well,” Shepard nudged Garrus with his knee, snickering as he teased, “How do you want me, Vakarian?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more to come soon!! its not over yet!


	7. Chapter 7

“Are you ready?” Garrus asked quietly.

Shepard turned his head, looking at Garrus from over his shoulder. With his ass in the air and his face buried in the blankets, he was, safe to say, thoroughly embarrassed. But Gods, he wanted this. He wanted this so bad, he didn’t care what position he took it in. Maybe it was the aphrodisiac talking, but Garrus’ dick looked like the best thing that was ever about to happen to him.

He nodded, but Garrus didn’t seem satisfied with a simple nod.

“Tell me, Shep.” Garrus leaned over, rubbing his dick across his back, and pressing against the smaller man. The hand that wasn’t holding him up came to intertwine with Shepard's in the sheets. “Tell me you want me.”

“Please,” Shepard whined and squeezed his eyes shut, “P-Please fuck me. I want you inside me.” And he did. His body was shaking, aching for release. “Mark me up and make me yours.”

“Hah…” Garrus laughed breathlessly, and pressed his cheek to Shepard’s shoulder in a Turian kiss. “Yes, _sir_.”

As he leaned back, he put his fingers at the base of his cock, holding onto the condoms lip. He brought the tip to Shepard’s ass, which was slick with spit and lube and that honey-like liquid. Just rubbing it there made him tremble. As he pushed in, Shepard’s hand tightened around Garrus’, and he groaned deep in his throat.

He moved slowly but never took it out, not until he was buried to his hilt. As his hips finally met Shepard’s ass, Garrus exhaled in a long sigh. Shepard was not just warm, but _hot._ Like, burning up. And so much softer than Garrus could have imagined. He might just get addicted.

“I’m going to move now,” Garrus whispered. When Shepard mumbled the smallest “please” in response, he started to rock his hips. He tried to keep in mind that even with all their preparation, human bodies still weren’t meant for Turian parts. So, instead of thrusting all the way in and out, he tried to keep his thrusts small yet firm. Enough to give some friction, but not enough to cause the barbs to catch and hurt his Commander. It was enough for him, and given the fact that Shepard was a drooling mess, it seemed like it was all Shepard needed, too.

When he got no complaints, Garrus started to pick up the pace. With one hand on the small of Shepard’s back, rocking him, and with Shepard moving himself accordingly, it was easy to create momentum and rhythm. Garrus was glad that Shepard had a whole floor to himself, because they were _not_ quiet. Skin slapped against skin, wetness squished, and their voices were put out freely. Even when Garrus was fucking him so hard and fast he couldn’t see straight, there was still a sweetness to his voice as he called his name. He loved Garrus and dammit, if the whole Normandy heard, he didn’t care.

Talons came to squeeze the back of Shepard’s neck and pinned him to the bed. Shepard shifted and wedged one shoulder partially beneath himself so he could reach between his legs. Using the lubrication that was already there, he fucked his clit rough and fast. He was getting close.

Garrus pressed one claw into Shepard’s jaw and turned his head so that he could see his face a little better. His skin was damp with sweat, his eyelids fluttering, his brow drawn tightly in. “Come for me,” Garrus grunted, digging his talons into Shepard’s flesh, “Come for me, baby, come on.”

Shepard moaned, and in the same moment he uttered Garrus’ name, he reached his climax. Like before, his body jerked, hard and violent, and he let out a frustrated sob. He could feel Garrus swell and burst inside of him, even with the rubber barrier in between. His hand moved between his shoulder blades and he pushed Shepard into the mattress while they rode out their orgasms together.

It took Shepard a little longer to come down, but when he finally did, he melted as all energy left him. Garrus pulled out slowly, keeping careful observation of Shepard’s face to make sure he didn’t cause too much discomfort. But Shepard seemed too tired to even care. Garrus pulled the condom off, tied it to prevent any mess later on, and dropped it on a towel on the floor beside the bed that Shepard had laid out. While he was already leaning over, he grabbed a clean one, and used it to wipe himself down in one quick motion before he handed it to Shepard.

The man rolled over onto his back, staring sleepily up at the ceiling. He cleaned himself off without much thought of embarrassment, and when he was done, tossed the soiled rag onto the floor. He heaved a big sigh, and at the end of his exhalation, he laughed.

“Holy _fuck_ you are _amazing_ , Garrus.”

Garrus gave a quiet laugh of his own. “Glad you think so. You’re not too bad yourself, Shepard.”

“Shep,” Suddenly rejuvenated, Shepard sat up quickly, reaching for Garrus’s waist. “Call me Shep again.” His fingers crept around his hips, and he grinned like the devil. 

Garrus was glad his embarrassment was not as easy to see as a human’s. The nickname had been on accident, but the fact that Shepard had actually caught onto it was very cute. He searched his partner’s face as he obliged him. “Shep.” Shepard giggled. His chest swelled with warmth and joy. Before he could even ask for him to say it again, there it was: “Shep, Shepard, my Shep.”

Shepard thumped his forehead against Garrus’ chest and squeezed his hips. “You’re too good to me,” he muttered, “I’ll be spoiled rotten before the night is over.”

As Garrus ran his hands through his hair, damp with sweat, he smiled. “Good. You deserve to be spoiled.”

Shepard lifted his head and turned to press Garrus’ palm to his cheek. He kissed his rough skin softly, and hummed. “So do you. Are you...finished?” He glanced down. As Garrus’ arousal calmed, his sheath had started to close. But Garrus shook his head.

“I could go for another round,” he replied, ducking his head shyly. “Maybe..you could fuck me?”

Shepard would have jumped for joy if he wasn’t tangled up in Garrus’ arms. “Oh, _fuck yeah.”_ He pulled away, flopping onto his stomach so he could stretch across the bed and rummage through the drawer on the floor. Garrus tried not to stare at the sight presented to him. When Shepard turned back, he was staring intently at the floor as if it was very interesting.

Shepard said nothing on the matter, simply snickered knowingly. He held up two strap-ons. Wordlessly, Garrus pointed at the smaller one, and Shepard tossed the other back somewhere onto the bed. He sat up on his knees and strapped himself in, quite literally.

“It vibrates, by the way,” Shepard whispered. He reached for Garrus’ hand, and placed a small controller into his palm. “It’s going into you, so you control it.”

Garrus glanced down. He pressed a button towards the top, and sure enough, it vibrated. Shepard, caught off guard, grit his teeth and made a funny noise. Garrus looked back at him, eyes wide, already reaching to turn it off, but Sheperd laughed breathlessly.

“You don’t have to-to turn it off. It’s alright.” He dropped onto the bed and scooted closer. Garrus opened up to him, inviting him in. By now, his dick had retreated, in a sense, but his sheath was still exposed. “You should probably warm up,” Shepard said as he smoothed a hand down Garrus’ leg.

Garrus shrugged. “I’ll be alright.”

Shepard raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to hurt you…”

“I’m not worried. Go ahead.” Garrus sat back, hands behind him.

Shepard moved closer still, until he could hitch both of the Turian’s legs over his own. He positioned himself at his entrance, and licked his lips nervously. “Garrus,” he pouted, “Are you _sure?”_

Garrus nodded, patiently. “I’m sure. I think...going in this way will be fun.”  
  
Shepard rolled his eyes. “If you liked pain you should have just told me so.” Garrus’ glare cut his teasing short, and he raised a hand defensively. “Kidding! Fine. But you _have_ to tell me if its no good.” He kissed Garrus’ chin before he leaned back. He put one hand on his dildo, and the other hand on Garrus’ slit. He ran his thumb over the wet folds, and pushed one finger in until he could find the opening, just beneath where his dick had been. “Here, yeah?” He looked up at Garrus, who could only meekly confirm.

Shepard did Garrus the same favor, starting slow and gentle. He eased himself in cautiously, backing out after he made an inch of process, only to dive right back in. The subtle vibrations helped both of them, keeping the pleasure going even when it was uncomfortable. With Garrus’ consent, Shepard began to move his hips back and forth. At first he kept careful still, but as Garrus’ body became acclimated to the length inside of it, Shepard was able to go a little harder and a little faster. It didn’t take long for them to find their pace.

As he pounded Garrus into the mattress, he put his arms on either side of him, and bucked his hips up, so that Garrus was curled in on himself somewhat, smushed into the bed. The contorted position gave the much smaller human a better angle, and one good thrust immediately following their repositioning proved this swiftly. Garrus grunted and bared his sharp teeth as Shepard hit him right where it felt best.

But it wasn’t any fun if Garrus was the only one being fucked senseless. Knowing this, he grabbed the controller. He turned the vibration frequency up two notches, knowing that the dildo pressing hard to Shepard’s clit would get him good. Shepard’s legs started to tremble, but still he plowed into Garrus relentlessly. He was panting like an animal in heat, much to Garrus’ delight. It was good they could both let loose like this.

But too much at once was making the Commander overstimulated and frustrated, and Garrus could tell. His groans, _yes, Shepard, fuck yes, please,_ let Shepard know that he was welcome to take it out on him. And why not? Garrus had turned it up knowing full well the consequences. 

Shepard’s voice wobbled as he cooed, “Garrus, baby,” he pushed hard, and Garrus growled between his teeth, “You’ll come for me, won’t you? C’mon...”

The Turian soldier’s eyes rolled, and his head moved too, in some semblance of a nod. He was dazed, blood rushing to his head, body hot all over. Something in his back and neck ached and fussed at his position, but he didn’t care in the slightest.

Shepard leaned in and kissed his mouth, and Garrus opened his immediately. As they sloppily kissed, Shepard snuck one hand between them. The instant his fingers found Garrus’ sheath and started to rub the sensitive skin, that was it.

Garrus reached up, grabbing Shepard with both arms and holding him with great strength. Talons clawed into his back as he orgasmed, raking through soft flesh. Shepard cried out, pain and pleasure, and pushed one last time into his partner before reaching his own peak. This time, they both jerked and jerked, until finally they were able to disengage competently.

Shepard turned off and unhooked his strap-on with numb, shaking fingers, and dropped it onto the floor. He was lucky it hit the towel from earlier. He grabbed the last clean rag and handed it to Garrus first. When he was done with it, Shepard wiped himself down, and then, yet again, it was dropped over the side of the bed.Garrus flopped down onto his back, and Shepard followed suit, only to yelp as his burning back hit the blankets. He sat up, whimpering. All along his back he had bright red marks, a couple of which even threatened to well up. “Fuck, Garrus…”  
  
Garrus hid his face against Shepard’s back, and hugged his middle. “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Shepard sighed. Slowly, he laid back again, taking Garrus with him. When they were both comfortable, he snuggled up against the softer section of his stomach and closed his eyes. “It’s okay,” he whispered, ”Feel good?”

“Very,” Garrus rolled his head back. “Can’t wait to tell Mordin it finally happened.”

Shepard slapped the plating on Garrus’ chest and twisted to glower at him. “Don’t you dare. _I’m_ telling him first.”

The Turian replied with a hearty laugh and took Shepard’s hand. He held onto it softly as they both began to drift off. Everything would need to be washed tomorrow but for now, all he wanted to do was fall asleep with Shepard in his arms.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more of this coming!
> 
> thanks so much for reading and for your support ;;;;;;;; I hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> I have a couple scraps of other garrus/shep ideas so maybe ill post those as well at a later time!


	8. Chapter 8

Shepard groaned. He rolled over, arms reaching, and when he found them empty, he sat up with a pout. Through blurry eyes, he looked at the man sitting beside him. The blankets were tangled around them both, and one pillow was on the floor. Right by their mess from last night. Ugh...gross.

“You are the worst to sleep with,” Garrus said quietly. His voice was rough with sleep.

Shepard blinked wide awake in an instant. “I-It was that bad?”   
  
The Turian shook his head, “No, I mean, actually  _ sleep  _ with.” He gestured at the bed. Now that he looked, he realized that Garrus was sitting right on the edge of it, pretty much, because Shepard had crowded him off in the night. He had also apparently snuck onto Garrus’ pillow, and then, as someone who actually didn’t sleep  _ on  _ pillows but rather just on the flat mattress, he yanked it out from under his head and tossed it off the bed. At least he wasn’t a blanket hogger.

Shepard’s shoulders deflated, and he laughed with embarrassment. “Sorry...I’m still not really used to sharing my bed, y’know.”

“It’s fine. Next time I’ll just kick you off before you can kick me off.”

Shepard rolled his eyes. Garrus leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead, and nuzzle his cheek. Their hands found one another’s and they yawned.

“Let’s hope that party went on for a while last night and everyone was too busy talking to each other to hear us,” Shepard grumbled, “Otherwise, this is going to be a really awkward morning.”

* * *

“Shepard,” Mordin greeted as he glanced up from his desk. His gaze skimmed over the Turian standing off to the side. “And Garrus.”

“Good morning, Mordin,” Shepard leaned against the desk, though he was careful to watch where he put his hands--didn’t want to bother Mordin’s hard work. “I, uh...need some more painkillers, please.”   
  
Mordin turned away. He grabbed a bottle without looking at it. He knew his own stuff pretty well. “Is Dr. Chakwas unavailable?” He asked as he handed the bottle to Shepard, who thanked him.

“Ah, no...this is about the thing I’ve been talking with you about?” He glanced behind him. The “thing” in question, Garrus Vakarian, barked out a quiet laugh. “I didn’t want to have to explain to her…”

“No need. She is aware.”

Shepard frowned. “Excuse me?”

Mordin bent over his work once again, and as he tinkered around, he explained: “We noticed your absence last night. And Garrus’. Sent Jack to find you. She did.” He waved a hand, “Not to worry. She only told Joker. Who told Jakob. Ah...who told me. And a few others.” The salarian looked up at Shepard to see his red face. “Most of the Normandy is aware.”   
  
Garrus and Shepard both groaned, and Shepard put his head in his hands. “Gods dammit, Jack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow finished at last! this is the longest fic I've ever written by far, and I really enjoyed it, even if I got a little burnt out by the end...
> 
> thanks again for all the support thus far and I hope any future readers enjoy!!


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